


Will You Remember Me

by imaginary_golux



Series: You Gave Me Light [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 00:59:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6683071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginary_golux/pseuds/imaginary_golux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Finn's turn to get amnesia, and FN-2187 is very disconcerted to find himself in a Resistance base.</p>
<p>Beta by my Best Beloved, Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Will You Remember Me

FN-2187 wakes up. He is in what is obviously a medical bay, but is equally obviously _not_ the one on the _Finalizer_ , and all around him are people without helmets, without officers’ uniforms - FN-2187 stares up in shock as he sees the Resistance badge on one person’s shoulder, and then recognizes the tiny woman at the foot of his bed: General Leia Organa, Enemy Number One.

Shit.

FN-2187 struggles to his feet, ignoring everyone else, and comes to attention in front of the enemy general. “Designation FN-2187,” he says clearly. “My superiors will not accept me in a prisoner exchange, and if tortured I am instructed to terminate myself.”

One of the other people, the man who is (for no discernible reason) holding a leather jacket, makes a sound like he’s been punched in the gut. General Organa examines FN-2187 carefully.

“I’ll make you a deal,” she says at last, to FN-2187’s blank shock. “You give me your parole, and I’ll promise not to ask you for any information you don’t want to give us.”

FN-2187 probably _should_ refuse - indeed, probably should have terminated himself as soon as he was captured, though he doesn’t _remember_ being captured - but he discovers, to his surprise, that he doesn’t actually want to die.

“I’ll agree to that, ma’am,” he says. General Organa nods and holds out a hand, and after a moment FN-2187 remembers that higher-ups shake hands when they agree on something. He mimics her gingerly, and is surprised by the strength in her small hand when she grips his.

“Now sit down and let the doctor check you over,” she says briskly. “You’ve had a nasty knock on the head.”

FN-2187’s knees _are_ feeling a little watery, so he sits obediently on the edge of the bed and lets the doctor check his pupils and fuss around him. It’s a little odd. If he’d been back where he should be, he’d have woken up among his squad, and since he’s not incapacitated, he’d be expected to shoulder his blaster and get on with his duties.

He doesn’t want to ask about his squad. It’s information these people don’t need, and also, if they were all killed when he was captured, he really doesn’t want to know.

“Right,” the doctor says eventually. “Concussion, temporary amnesia, pretty much as expected.” She glances around, and the man with the leather jacket in his hands stands up a little straighter. “Dameron, you can show him around. Take it slow, and try not to stress him out unduly.”

“Yes ma’am,” Dameron says, and reaches out as if to touch FN-2187 on the shoulder, then thinks better of it and turns the gesture into a wave at the door. “C’mon, then, buddy, I’ll show you the nonclassified parts of the base.”

The word ‘buddy’ rings strangely in FN-2187’s head, like he’s heard it before, like it means something - but no one has ever called him that. Weird.

He follows Dameron obediently out of the medical bay, assessing the base almost automatically. It’s much smaller than any First Order base would be, and there seems to be no order to the flow of people through its halls. They’re all wearing different clothing, too, in many colors, and FN-2187 wonders how you’re supposed to know which ones are officers and which ones are troops. Unless maybe each _color_ means a different thing? But no, General Organa was wearing the same shade of light beige that half the other people are wearing, and there are other people wearing vests like hers, too - surely the highest ranking officer on base would not wear the same uniform as anyone else, without any adornment.

He’s deeply curious as to why Dameron is _carrying_ a jacket. Surely they are usually worn? But perhaps he’s meaning to give it to someone. And what does Dameron do, anyway, that he’s been so easily snatched away from to look after FN-2187? Dameron - the name sounds vaguely familiar, like it might be on the Enemies List. FN-2187 calls the List up in his head, scrolls through it mentally. Yep - there. Commander Poe Dameron, callsign Black One, leader of the Resistance’s X-Wings. What the kriff is a _commander_ doing as FN-2187’s guide?

The first place Commander Dameron leads him is the mess hall, and FN-2187 blinks in astonishment at the array of food. It’s...colorful. Everything here is so colorful.

Commander Dameron fills a plate for FN-2187 and one for himself. FN-2187 is pretty sure that the food is neither drugged nor poisoned, since Commander Dameron serves them both from the same trays, and also takes some of the same food for himself as he gives FN-2187, so when Commander Dameron sits FN-2187 down and hands him a utensil, FN-2187 takes a bite.

And then he pauses, because _kriff_ , he had no idea food could taste like that. Except that there’s a weird feeling in the back of his mind that he _remembers_ food tasting like this, that this has happened before.

“Good, buddy?” Commander Dameron asks.

It’s not a question about the First Order, so FN-2187 answers. “Yes. It’s very good.”

Commander Dameron looks proud of himself. FN-2187 wonders why in the galaxy the other man cares so much about whether FN-2187 likes the food. Surely it is beneath a commander’s dignity to be dancing attendance on a captured Stormtrooper.

FN-2187 has so many questions. But asking questions is a good way to gets reconditioned, and FN-2187 learned to keep his stupid mouth shut years ago. Still. So many questions.

“You’ll be rooming with me for now,” Commander Dameron says once they’ve finished eating. FN-2187 nods. He supposes that makes sense: Commander Dameron can more easily keep an eye on him if they’re in the same room. But FN-2187 is a trained soldier, and Commander Dameron is an X-Wing pilot; FN-2187 is pretty sure he could overpower Commander Dameron if he wanted to, especially if Commander Dameron was _asleep_.

When they reach Commander Dameron’s room, the second bunk is clearly already someone’s. FN-2187 looks at Commander Dameron curiously; to his surprise, Commander Dameron’s ears go red.

“My roommate is...out just now. He won’t mind you using his bunk till he gets back.” Commander Dameron fidgets for a moment with the jacket, then lays it almost reverently on his bunk. FN-2187 stands patiently waiting as Commander Dameron mutters to himself. “Can’t take you to the hangar,” FN-2187 hears, “not the command center, Pava would give you heart palpitations…” He looks up at FN-2187 and shrugs. “Want to spar?”

FN-2187 nods. He’s a little dubious about sparring with Commander Dameron, but he can pull his punches easily enough. He won’t damage the commander.

Commander Dameron leads FN-2187 to a large room with mats on the floor; half a dozen other people are sparring in the tape circles laid out on the mats, and Commander Dameron picks a circle and settles into a guard position. FN-2187 shrugs and attacks.

Commander Dameron is rather better at hand-to-hand than FN-2187 expected; he actually blocks about half of FN-2187’s attacks, and he dodges many others. But it doesn’t actually take very long for FN-2187 to get his opponent pinned down on the mats. Commander Dameron is flushed and panting, a wide grin on his face, and FN-2187 has another of those weird feelings: he wants to bend his head and kiss Commander Dameron’s lips, scatter kisses across his pink cheeks. He can almost hear the moan that Commander Dameron would make, almost see the way Commander Dameron would toss his head back in pleasure.

What the _kriff_.

FN-2187 rolls to his feet and offers Commander Dameron a hand up. Commander Dameron looks a little dazed; maybe FN-2187 took him down a little hard? He’s used to sparring in armor; he might have misjudged the necessary force.

“Did I hurt you?”

Commander Dameron shakes his head. “No - no, I’m fine, Finn. Just a little out of it.”

Finn? The name rings oddly, the same way ‘buddy’ did, the same way the food tasted impossibly familiar and the feel of Commander Dameron pinned under him felt incomprehensibly _right_. FN-2187 feels like his head is stuffed full of gauze; he shakes it, trying to shake loose the feeling, and Commander Dameron winces.

“Okay, maybe sparring isn’t the best thing for someone with a concussion,” he says. “C’mon. Bunk. This’ll maybe make more sense in the morning.”

*

Finn wakes up cold. There’s no other body in his bunk, no warm Poe curled against his back. He’s confused for a moment - did Poe go out on a mission and Finn’s just forgotten? - and then the whole previous afternoon comes rushing back, and he sits bolt upright, staring across the room at Poe.

“Are you _insane_? I could have killed you!”

Poe startles awake and blinks sleepily at Finn. “You didn’t, though.” He stretches and grins. “You were kind of adorable, all wide-eyed and confused.”

“I thought I was an _enemy combatant_ ,” Finn says.

Poe rolls out of his bunk and shuffles over to slump down next to Finn, curling against his shoulder. “You gave parole, and you were very polite,” he says, muffled against Finn’s shirt. “But kriff, you looked at me and you didn’t _know_ me -”

Finn wraps his arms around his boyfriend and nuzzles his face into Poe’s sleep-messy hair. “”M sorry.”

“Not your fault, you didn’t give _yourself_ a concussion,” Poe says.

“Still,” Finn says, wincing a little. “I don’t like thinking it’s that easy for me to forget you.”

“Only for a little while,” Poe points out. “You remember me _now_ , don’t you?”

Finn laughs. “I think so. Maybe I’d better check,” he teases, and Poe raises his head so that Finn can kiss him thoroughly.

“Hmmm,” says Finn after a long, pleasant while. “Yep, I think I remember you.”

Poe grins. “ _Yeah_ you do. And, buddy - if you ever did really forget me? I’d move the stars to find a way to bring you back.”

Finn hugs Poe a little more tightly. “Yeah? Promise?”

“Promise,” Poe says, and seals it with a kiss.


End file.
